


I'd Be Lost Without You (Watching Over Me)

by LifeLover



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) RPF
Genre: Allergies, Horses, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 04:45:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1538069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LifeLover/pseuds/LifeLover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sequel to luninosity's Breathing for Two.  Michael should really remember that he's filming a western and James is allergic to horses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'd Be Lost Without You (Watching Over Me)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [luninosity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luninosity/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Breathing For Two](https://archiveofourown.org/works/555526) by [luninosity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luninosity/pseuds/luninosity). 



> In honor of luninosity's birthday and a sequel to her fic Breathing For Two: http://archiveofourown.org/works/555526 
> 
> The prompt was unexpected allergies (b/c of Slow West) and hurt/comfort. Hopefully this works. Title and lyrics are from Celtic Thunder's "A Bird Without Wings".

_You’re my guardian angel/your hand on my shoulder/_

_you by my side/you make everything beautiful/you make_

_me complete/everything in my world I lay at your feet_

 

Why hadn’t he put the clothes in the washing machine right away?

 

Michael knew that question would probably haunt him during nights to come. He’d come home from filming and immediately gone to take a shower, prepared to wash all harmful elements away and down the drain. _Slow West_ was after all a Western, which meant there was horses. And that was bad for James. As he’d rinsed off his body, the memory came of James back during the filming of _First Class_ saying matter-of-factly _“That’s not true. There’re horses…they don’t like me. Or more accurately, my allergic reactions don’t like them. Kind of severely.”_

 

The casual way James had said that and the following knowledge that not only did no one else really know about this possible life-threat, but James didn’t even carry his EpiPen led to their first major fight. Well, more of Michael shouting defiantly and helplessly at James in his trailer, bone-terrified and feeling frozen, that James didn’t care enough about his own life and that he loved him. The apologies (which had consisted of a second EpiPen and blueberry flavored coffee) had been the start for their relationship.

 

Coming out of the shower, he was drying himself off when he heard James humming what sounded like the song from that artist – Enya – that Ian and Patrick had gifted them along with lines of “my dear boy, you _must_ try this music, she did tracks for Lord of the Rings y’know, yes dear I’m coming to bed…” For their innocent air, the two were terrifying sometimes. “I’m home,” he called out as he threw some sweatpants on, hoping James heard him. “Yes, I gathered that,” came the dry response. “Oh, here – I’ll put these in the laundry.” Michael nodded absently, slipping the hoodie over his head. Suddenly, he froze. Laundry?

 

 **Wait**.

 

Coming out of the bathroom, skidding slightly he came to a halt by the living room as his eyes seemed to take in the events in slow motion. The clothes falling to the floor as James raised his hands to his throat, eyes widening in panicked realization. The obvious strained gasps as that nutmeg-dusted throat closed up and that small body folded in on itself. The clouding of those azure eyes, pollution of clear lakes and confusion in the depths as Michael held him, one hand fumbling with the EpiPen he’d snatched from the bathroom shelf in automatic reaction to the dreadful, horrifying realization of what would happen.

 

Finally managing to inject James, Michael flung the injector somewhere and held on, murmuring steadily “It’ll be okay James, come on, don’t panic, alright? That’s it, it’s kicking in,” and as James started to gasp, trying to pull in oxygen, “no, sshh… James breathe with me … in … out …in ….out ….” James finally started to breathe steadily and Michael carried him over to the sofa. Laying him down tenderly, he removed James’ shoes and taking a blanket, covered them both as he took James into his arms.

 

After a few minutes, James spoke quietly. “Thank you. That was unexpectedly scary.”

 

Michael’s heart ached. “I’m so sorry about this James. Don’t worry, I’ll call the Director tomorrow and apologize, but explain that I can’t do the film.” He wasn’t expecting the exasperated sigh that floated up, although he treasured it. James could sigh, could _breathe_.

 

“Don’t overreact, Michael. I should have been more aware. I want you to do this film – we just have to be more aware of what might set off the allergies. Slightly more complicated but not anything to worry about. Not in any real sense.”

 

He just stared at James, heart thudding slightly. James, who was resting in his arms, blanket comfortably cocooning them as they lay on the couch. His head nestled in the hollow of Michael’s shoulder, those jeweled eyes twinkling comfortably, no longer hazy as his brain was deprived of live-giving oxygen. He never wanted to see James like that again; he _couldn’t_ see James like that again. James needed to be comfortable and safe, always. Discussing possible Middle-Earth courting rituals and interspecies relations, or leaving Star Trek novels dispersed everywhere. If lake-blue eyes were to be clouded it would be from desire and Michael leaving him too dazed to do anything but feel the pleasure coursing through that freckled body. Or from an afternoon nap, kitten-like and adorably sleepy with tousled hair and pink cheeks as he was curled up in an armchair. James had to be safe because Michael couldn’t survive if he wasn’t.

 

Michael didn’t even realize he was crying until James was brushing away the tears with slender fingers and murmuring worriedly in that splendid accent, “Shhh….I’m okay Michael. I’m alright, I’m safe. Shhh…. Please don’t cry, not for me, not now. I don’t like you crying …” And suddenly James was the one holding him and Michael buried his face in apple-scented hair and breathed in, letting the Scottish-burred voice assure him of stable ground and lighted paths in the dark. When he felt he could speak coherently, he said “I’m sorry James, I just …. You have to be alright, okay? You can’t ever get hurt, not ever … because then I’d …” He broke off, choking on the lump in his throat.

 

“Not ever?” James asked bemusedly, though he pressed a kiss to the side of Michael’s neck in reassurance, support. “Because I don’t know if that’s physically feasible. And I’m not an elf, Michael – though I can certainly die of a broken heart,” he mused thoughtfully. Michael laughed shakily, but it helped. The shifting sands steadied and the ache dissipated slightly.

 

“Does that make me a ranger? Your Aragorn – and don’t deny it, James. I’ve seen your laptop. I know you’re a fan of Legolas and Aragorn. And no – if I can help it, you’re not getting hurt. Not physically and definitely not of a broken heart.”

 

Suddenly serious, James looked up at him. “You do help,” he said quietly. “You’re the one who originally showed me how I might need the EpiPen one day. What if I’d come to see you at filming and hadn’t thought about my allergy. This could have been a lot worse.” Michael shuddered slightly, “Don’t say that.”

 

“I have to,” James stated. “Michael – I gave you the EpiPen because you cared. I wanted to be by you always and I knew I could trust you to look out for me. Especially since I tend to underestimate what I need. Your devotion saves me every day.” James’ voice caught at that point. “You’re my anchor and my sail, Michael. You help me stay grounded and you help me navigate my way. I’d be lost without you.”

 

Michael found himself suddenly near tears again at that. Pressing a kiss to James’ forehead tenderly, he whispered fiercely “Not lost, James. Not going anywhere. I’ll always be here as your anchor or your sail or whatever else you need me to be.”

 

James nodded and as time passed, Michael felt James’ body suddenly get heavier. Looking down, he saw James was asleep. Smiling fondly, Michael closed his eyes.

 

 

_If a boat on the ocean would be lost with no sail/then without_

_your devotion/surely all that I’ve dreamed of would fail/I_

_wouldn’t know what to do/lost without you watching over me_


End file.
